


if you could see what I see (you'd be blinded by the colors)

by whenwelostourmagic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Romance, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27108295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenwelostourmagic/pseuds/whenwelostourmagic
Summary: “So, are we going to talk about it?”“Talk about what?”“Don’t play stupid. We have the same econ class, I know you’re not stupid.” She slows her stride to a stop in the empty hallway. He steps in front of her and sighs in frustration, readjusting his grip on his backpack. “I’ve been going out of my freaking mind these past few days. I mean – you know what this means, right?”“Of course I know what it means.” She snaps, “And it’s not that big a deal.”Or, soulmates AU where the world is black and white until you meet your soulmate.
Relationships: Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 6
Kudos: 121





	if you could see what I see (you'd be blinded by the colors)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post: https://natashas-bucky.tumblr.com/post/154803510154/12-days-of-stydia-day-10-favourite-au 
> 
> I haven't posted any of my works in a long time because I haven't really been writing. I am trying to get back into the groove of it, so here's a piece of work that I probably over-wrote. Any comments/critiques are welcome!

Lydia is born into this world seeing black and white. She figures, in this moment, she’d be perfectly fine to go out of this world without that changing.

She’s eleven years old sitting at a table with her mom, a table that now feels too big for just the two of them. Even though she’s just started middle school, she’s not naïve. She knows this conversation has been a long time coming, ever since the boxes started collecting in the foyer of her home and disappearing until it felt like half the house was gone.

Her mom, Natalie, looks so much older under the dim lights of the dining room. The lines around her mouth have hardened as she purses her lip. Lydia sits and waits patiently; her knuckles clench the bottom of the wooden chair, the only sign that she is uncomfortable.

Natalie inhales deeply and then exhales, her exterior cracking for just a moment. “Lydia, I have to tell you something.” Lydia nods quickly, hoping the urgency of her gesture will get her mom to talk faster. “Your father and I love each other very much, but sometimes that love changes over time as people grow older. We have decided that, while we still love each other, it’s not the same as it used to be.”

As much as Lydia likes to be prepared, there is no way she could have equipped herself for the way her heart jumps into her throat at her mom’s confession.

Natalie’s hesitation to continue causes a million questions to rush to forefront of Lydia’s mind. “What do you mean? Can you not see color anymore?”

“It’s not that. Your father is supposed to be in my life just as I am supposed to be in his. We both got you out of it, didn’t we?”

Natalie reaches over and releases Lydia’s tight grip on the chair, squeezing her hand in reassurance. Her mind is still going a mile a minute. “I don’t understand. If you’re supposed to be together –“

“We tried, sweetheart. We did. But we have decided it would be best for us to separate. Your father is going to live in Boston and you’ll get to visit him from time to time, but you and I will stay here.”

Lydia knows that there’s no room for argument, even though she has some very sound ones. Like the fact that it’s not fair that she doesn’t get any say in the matter. Or the fact that Lydia doesn’t like the cold and she knows how cold Massachussetts can be. Or the fact that Lydia was told that soulmates are supposed to be together forever. If her parents are soulmates, then why are they not together?

She can only sit there and nod because she knows there’s no changing this situation. And really, all she wants to do is go to her room.

Natalie squeezes her hand one more time before letting go. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. We never meant to hurt you.”

“I know.” Lydia assures. She pushes away from the table, the chair scrapping against the floor. She gives her mom a quick hug, which surprises Natalie – Lydia pulls away before she can wrap her arms around her. “I’m sorry, too.”

Lydia leaves the dining room and runs up the stairs to her bedroom. She closes the door quietly and crawls into her bed. Her comforter is covered in vines and flowers, all varying shades of gray. A couple of spots darken as the tears she’s been holding in start to fall.

Her last thought before she succumbs to sleep is that she never wants to see color, not if this is what it feels like.

. . .

“What are we doing this weekend?”

Lydia plops down on the cafeteria bench with her lunch tray – a Caesar salad with dressing on the side, an apple, and a bottle of sparkling water – across from Allison, whose focus had been on the phone in her lap. Judging from the smile on her face, Lydia can guess that she’s texting a certain co-captain of the lacrosse team.

“I don’t know. What are we doing this weekend, Lydia?”

“I need a distraction,” Lydia says, her eyes roving over the cafeteria. She’s sixteen now, a junior at Beacon Hills High and at the top of her class. It’s the beginning of the school year and, as she sits at the cafeteria table with just Allison, she can’t help but notice how different this year is already turning out to be. 

“A distraction from what?” Allison asks as she follows where Lydia’s gaze has landed across the room, at the lunch table where she and Allison used to sit.

Jackson sits with Danny and some of the other lacrosse players, who jostle each other around as they eat their lunches. Jackson’s attention, however, is on Erica, seated to his right; their lips are locked in the middle of the commotion, lost in their own little bubble.

The sight makes Lydia viciously stab a piece of romaine lettuce before shoving it into her mouth.

Allison turns back around and nails her with a look, “You’re still hung up on that?”

Lydia huffs and chews her salad thoughtfully. The sight of Jackson with the girl he left her for still stings, but not as much as it did at the end of last year when it all went down.

The lingering feelings of hurt are for her pride. While she hasn’t totally fallen from the height of popularity, the fact that Jackson is dating someone and she is so obviously not makes her look a certain way. Like she’s the pitiful loser of the relationship when really it’s the other way around.

“No,” Lydia lies, causing Allison to raise her eyebrows, “I’ll have you know there’s some fresh meat on the lacrosse team that I have my eye on.”

“Any of them make you see color?”

Lydia swallows and looks down at her tray. Easy enough for Allison to say – freshman year, Allison moves to Beacon Hills and meets Scott on her very first day. She’s been able to see color every day since. Lydia’s been forced to witness their nauseating love for each other for just as long.

“No,” Lydia answers again, “but that hardly matters.”

“Lydia –“

“Back to the topic at hand,” Lydia moves on, “there’s a new movie out and Ryan Gosling is in it. We could go Saturday night?”

“That might be perfect because Scott –“

“As much as I love to be the perpetual third wheel –“

“Actually, Scott’s best friend is moving back to Beacon Hills.”

“Okay?”

“So you wouldn’t be the third wheel because Scott’s friend would be there.” Allison explains, a sly smile on her face.

Lydia returns the smile, dripping in false sweetness, “Allison, you know I love you very much –“

“I love you too, Lydia.”

“—but you setting me up with Scott’s best friend doesn’t sound like an appealing option either. Can’t it just be the two of us? I feel like we never get any one-on-one time anymore.”

Allison softens at that. She reaches across the table and squeezes Lydia’s arm. “Of course it can be just us. I’m sure Scott will be busy anyways.”

“Busy with what?” Scott asks, dropping unceremoniously to Allison’s right with his tray full of carbs. Allison’s eyes light up as Scott drapes an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in for a quick kiss.

Lydia rolls her eyes without heat. As nauseating as it is to watch their displays of affection, Lydia is grateful that Allison and Scott are sitting with her rather than the rest of the lacrosse team. She couldn’t even think about trying to play nice with Jackson.

“I was just telling Lydia about your friend who’s moving back here.” Allison answers. “That’s this weekend, right?”

“Yeah, tomorrow night actually. His dad was offered the sheriff position, so they’re moving back into his old house down the street from me.” Scott explains.

“Charming.” Lydia supplies, taking another bite of her salad. Allison gives Lydia another look before turning to Scott, a mischievous grin on her face.

“Any chance he’s single?”

“ _Allison,”_ Lydia smacks her arm from across the table.

“What? Can’t hurt to ask, right?”

“He’s a great guy,” Scott chimes in obliviously, “I’m sure you two would hit it off.”

“Please. The last thing I need is another failed relationship.”

“Stiles isn’t like that –“

“What the hell kind of name is Stiles?”

Scott laughs, “Just wait until you find out what his real name is.”

“Well,” Lydia flicks her hair over her shoulder, “whatever his name is, I’m not interested.”

Allison rolls her eyes. She doesn’t miss the way that Lydia’s eyes fall back to Jackson, his arm still wrapped around Erica.

. . .

“Okay, but can we just agree on the fact that Ryan Gosling can still get it?”

They’ve just left the movie theatre, a little past eleven at night. Allison careens her Mazda around the bends in the backwoods roads, which are slick with water from the night’s rainfall. Lydia fiddles with the radio, flipping from station to station.

“It’s really unfair to every other guy out there.” Allison admits.

“Right? How am I supposed to settle for some high school boy when Ryan Gosling can do the lift from Dirty Dancing?”

Allison laughs again, speeding through a stoplight and continuing to follow the road downhill. Lydia finally settles on a station playing something by Kelly Clarkson.

She sighs, a feeling of ease settling over her body. She looks to Allison, who still has her eyes trained on the road in front of her.

“This was really fun. I’m glad we could do it.”

Allison glances over and smiles, “Yeah, me too. Thanks for insisting on making it a girl’s night. I know whenever we hang out, Scott is always there –“

“I like Scott.” Lydia assures, “Trust me, if I didn’t you would know.”

“No, I know. But – you’re right. We hadn’t had any one-on-one time in a really long time. I missed it.”

“Me too.”

Just then, Allison’s phone lights up on the dash. Lydia can see it’s a text message from Scott.

“Speak of the devil.” Lydia teases.

Allison rolls her eyes, “I’m sure he’s just checking in. Probably wants to know if I’m leaving him for Ryan Gosling or not.”

“You should.” Lydia states. Allison sends her a look before reaching for the phone to swipe away the notification.

Through the windshield, a couple of deer waltz into the middle of the road. Lydia looks up in time to give a warning, “Allison, watch out!”

Allison drops her phone. She brakes and swerves, but the Mazda begins to hydroplane off the road. Lydia braces her arm against the door, letting out an involuntarily squeal as the car spins out. Her heads slams into the passenger window with the force of the turn.

Once the car goes off the road, Allison regains control of the wheel and slams on the brakes. The rear of the car slams into a tree, stopping the motion of the vehicle in its tracks. Both girls breathe heavily in their respective seats, not moving for a moment as they gather their bearings.

Allison breaks the heavy silence first, “Lydia – oh my _god –_ I am so sorry –“

“It’s okay. They came out of nowhere. Me screaming didn’t help the situation.”

Allison nods and looks over at Lydia. She gasps immediately, “You’re bleeding!”

Lydia frowns. Her head is throbbing from where it hit the window. She brings her fingers up to gently prod the place of impact. She pulls it back and sees a dark liquid between her fingers.

“I’m fine. Worst-case scenario, I might have a mild concussion. Also – stitches. But it could be worse.”

Allison buries her face in her hands, “Oh my god –“

“Hey!” Lydia says a little too sharply, causing Allison to flinch. She rests her hand gently on Allison’s shoulder, “We’re okay. It’s not your fault. If it wasn’t for your steering, we would probably be worse off.”

Allison nods again and takes a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s see how bad the damage is.”

They both get out of the car and go around to the back. There’s a noticeable dent from where the car hit the tree, but it doesn’t seem like any other vital parts of the car have been damaged. However, the back wheel is lodged in a shallow ditch.

“We’re might need a tow.” Lydia states, if only to ground herself in the reality of the situation. They are stranded in the middle of the woods at night and a tow truck might take more than an hour to reach them.

“My dad is going to kill me.” Allison groans. Just then, her ringtone sounds off from within the car. She stomps to the front and swings the car door open, digging around for a moment until she pulls the phone out.

“Scott, hey.” Allison answers on a sigh of relief. “Listen, we just got into a bit of an accident…”

Lydia listens as Allison explains the situation to Scott over the phone. Her head continues to pound more and more as she leans against the tree. Allison glances over her shoulder at her with a worried look; Lydia waves her off, instead going back to inspect the shallow ditch the tire is lodged in.

“You don’t have to come out, I don’t want to interrupt your time with…” Allison trails off. Lydia smirks when she hears Scott’s reply: _shut up and send me your location._

Allison hangs up a couple of minutes later, pocketing her phone. “Scott will be here in fifteen.”

“Wonderful. Our hero to the rescue.” Lydia teases, “Or we could rescue ourselves.”

Fifteen minutes is enough time to set her plan in motion. Lydia climbs into the drivers seat while Allison goes to the rear. Lydia presses on the accelerator while Allison pushes on the bumper, trying to free the rear tire. Another try, with Lydia pressing a little harder on the pedal, does the trick – the car lurches forward as the wheel dislodges.

Allison gives a loud cheer just as a pair of headlights flashes into the woods. A Jeep pulls off the road ahead and screeches to a stop in the foliage. Lydia props open the door and leans out to look at Allison.

“You should meet him at the road and lead him back here.” Lydia suggests.

“Are you sure?” Allison asks, taking a couple of steps in the Jeep’s direction.

“Yes, just make sure you come back for me.” Lydia teases.

Allison huffs a laugh, “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you for dead.” She jogs in the direction of the newly arrived Jeep, just as Scott starts calling out her name.

Lydia leans her head back on the headrest. The throbbing has yet to go away, even as she closes her eyes. She gently touches the wound again and pulls her fingers back, met with more of the dark liquid coloring her fingers.

She can hear the crunching of leaves as Allison and Scott make their way to rejoin Lydia at the car. Lydia slowly heaves herself out of the seat, using the door as leverage before slamming it shut.

“Scott’s gonna look at the car to see how bad the damage is.” Allison tells her as she draws closer. Lydia registers a third person following the couple to Allison’s car.

He’s about the same height as Scott, donned in a flannel and jeans. Her eyes trail up to his face, to the mole on his left cheek, to his upturned nose, to his tufted hair. Her eyes meet his and they both freeze where they stand.

It happens slowly and then all at once.

She first registers the amber fleck in his deep, brown eyes. The dark brown of the mop of hair on his head. The green color of his flannel and the yellow graphic tee underneath. The worn, dark blue of the denim of his jeans. The orange leaves that cover the forest floor. The electric blue of Allison’s dented Mazda. The cherry red of the dress that she wears, so very different from the crimson red that is staining her fingers.

 _Holy shit_. She can see color. Which means…

Her eyes snap back to his. She can tell from the way that his gaze has softened that he can see color too. That it’s not like he’s spent his entire life seeing color – this is a first for him. And she knows what the implications of that are. It makes her heart lodge in her throat and her head swim.

He starts moving towards her. It’s overwhelming.

All her senses coming rushing back in – she hears Scott and Allison move to the back of the car to inspect the damage, feels the cool metal of the car under her clammy palms, tastes the copper in her mouth where she bit down on the side of her mouth too hard. Her knees grow weak and she stumbles, the impact of her head injury making itself known now that the adrenaline has worn off.

Her hands move up to touch the wound again just as his hands take a hold of her. She freezes again as he ducks his head to get a look at the damage. His touch on her bare arms is electrifying as he warmth of his palms sears into her skin.

“Here, let me…” the deep timber of his voice sends chills down her spine. She moves her hand out of the way and watches as his long fingers come up to trace the outline of the laceration. She lets out an involuntary hiss as he applies pressure.

His concerned eyes dart down to hers and she closes hers because it’s _too much._ She really can’t have him looking at her like that.

“The bleeding has stopped, but it looks like you’re going to need stitches. You might also have a slight concussion.” He states.

She’s a little annoyed that he’s pointing out things that she’s already deducted herself, but bites her tongue. He’s just trying to help, she reasons.

That is, until he holds up three fingers in front of her face and asks, “How many fingers am I holding up?”

She narrows her eyes, “That’s not a viable test to check if I have a concussion or not. You should see if my pupils are dilating.”

“Right. Or you could just tell me how many fingers I’m holding up.”

“Three.” She snipes before she smacks his hand out of her face. “I’m sure that works better in the Saturday morning cartoons you watch.”

“Usually, yeah.” He admits with a shy smile.

She quickly steps out from the circle of his arms, trying to gain her bearings. She turns around to face Scott and Allison, who are circling back to the front of the vehicle. Allison immediately raises her eyebrows in concern.

“Lydia, are you sure you’re okay?” Allison asks. Lydia nods, but winces with the motion.

Scott inspects her face, “It looks like you’re gonna need stitches –“

“I know I’m gonna need stitches!” Lydia snaps. Scott backs off, holding his hands up.

“We should call your mom and tell her to meet us at the hospital.” Allison gently suggests.

“My mom is out of town. I don’t want to worry her with something this stupid.” Lydia mutters, wrapping her arms around herself.

Allison and Scott exchange looks. Scott sighs, “Come back to my house. My mom keeps a suture kit in the bathroom, she can take care of you.”

Lydia finds herself agreeing. It’s the only viable option, unless she wants to call her mom and get an earful at this time of night. She moves towards the passenger side of the Mazda.

Scott intervenes, “I think Allison’s still a little shaken up. Why don’t you ride with Stiles?”

Lydia glances over his shoulder. Stiles – of course, his name is _Stiles_ – gives a half-hearted wave. There’s a hopeful smile gracing his face, which only makes Lydia’s stomach sink. She looks over to Allison, who is already glancing between the two of them.

The last thing Lydia wants is to be left alone with Stiles right now.

“Allison’s fine, she can drive me. The last thing I need is to show up alone at your house because you two got distracted sucking face.” Lydia says. She gives Allison her best _please do this for me_ look, which makes her best friend sigh.

“Lydia’s right. I’m okay to drive. Why don’t you and Stiles lead the way and we’ll follow you?” Allison pouts her lips at Scott and he acquiesces, giving her a short kiss before heading off with Stiles to the Jeep.

Stiles looks back at Lydia one last time before following Scott back to the road. She wishes she could stop looking at him because it’s only freaking her out more.

She carefully climbs into the passenger seat and slams the door. Allison starts the car but pauses to look over at Lydia.

“What’s wrong?”

Lydia stares at Stiles’ retreating figuring, watches the way he gesticulates wildly next to Scott. “Nothing.”

. . .

Mrs. McCall does patch Lydia up, but not without giving all four teenagers a lecture on safe driving. She calls Lydia’s mom to explain the situation and to advise that Lydia stay home for a day or two to make sure her concussion is nothing too serious.

With all the commotion at the McCall house, Lydia is never left alone with Stiles. Every so often, she catches him lingering in the background, obviously looking on in concern as Mrs. McCall pinches her skin and sews it shut.

But it’s for the best that he doesn’t catch her alone. She doesn’t even know what she would say to him after – well. She hasn’t given much thought to the fact that he’s her soulmate. Every time she thinks about Stiles, she also thinks about the boxes in the foyer and the look on her mother’s face and the way Jackson won’t even so much as look at her in the hallway –

It’s a lot.

So, she’s been avoiding Stiles, which is difficult considering that he is now enrolled at Beacon Hills. They share a couple of classes but it’s pretty easy to avoid the holes that he burns into the back of her head with his stare. The hardest part is lunch because it’s always just been her, Allison, and Scott. Her first day back after the accident, her heart lurches at the sight of Stiles sitting across from Allison and Scott, the spot to his right left open for her.

She made a beeline for the library, where she scarfed down her salad while she did that night’s calculus homework.

Her plan works for about three days. Lydia leaves the chemistry lab and heads for her locker as the last bell of the day rings. She opens her locker to exchange textbooks and her gaze catches on the magnetic mirror on the door.

She stares at her reflection, namely the white piece of gauze above her brow. Luckily, the swelling has gone down in the past few days but she can’t help but hate the way the cut mares her skin.

She swiftly closes her locker and finds Stiles, standing on the other side. She jumps about a foot in the air, not expecting him to be so close. She glares at him. “Do you make a habit of scaring unsuspecting girls?”

“Only when they’ve been ignoring me for three days.” He states pointedly.

“I haven’t been ignoring you.” She lies, “It’s a big school. I assume you’ve been busy getting acclimated.”

She moves around him and starts to walk down the hallway, which is emptier than when she first left the chemistry lab. Stiles, of course, follows.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks. It’s really unfair that he can match her fast pace with just a few strides of his own. 

She rolls her eyes, “Thank you for your concern, but I am perfectly fine.”

“Right.” Lydia can feel him staring at the side of her face as they walk, but she keeps her gaze straight ahead. “So, are we going to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“Don’t play stupid. We have the same econ class, I know you’re not stupid.” She slows her stride to a stop in the empty hallway. He steps in front of her and sighs in frustration, readjusting his grip on his backpack. “I’ve been going out of my freaking mind these past few days. I mean – you know what this means, right?”

“Of course I know what it means.” She snaps, “And it’s not that big a deal.”

“Not that big a deal?” Stiles says, louder than before. “Lydia, statistically speaking, seventy-two percent of the world’s population will never see color because they’ll never meet their soulmate. It’s a big deal. At least, it is to me.”

Lydia tries to swallow past the lump in her throat. She realizes in that moment that she’s being unfair by not taking his feelings into account. It’s not just happening to her, it’s happening to him, too.

Lydia sighs and crosses her arms over her chest, giving in, “What do you want to do about it?”

Stiles stares incredulously, “What do I want to do about it?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Right.” He ducks his head, shy all of sudden. When he looks back at her, his cheeks are little flushed and he has that soft smile on his face, “Well, I was thinking I could take you out tonight.”

Lydia freezes. She really should have known better. Before she can say anything, he rambles on, “Or any other night this week. It doesn’t have to be tonight. Weekends also work for me –“

“No.” Lydia cuts him off.

Stiles is taken aback, “No?”

“Stiles,” Lydia sighs. For some reason, the next words that she wants to come out of her mouth won’t make it past her lips.

It’s the way that he’s looking at her, that soft look that she doesn’t know how to fully describe yet. But she pushes forward, “I think we have a different understanding of how soulmates work. A soulmate is just someone who is supposed to be in your life. We’re in each other’s lives now, so technically we have fulfilled the contract that our hormones have set in motion. Why don’t we just see how it goes from there?”

Stiles gapes, like a fish out of water. “Uh – yeah, sure. I mean, whatever you want –“

“Great, we have a deal then.” She extends her hand to him, wanting this conversation to be over.

His long fingers wrap around her hand and shakes. A spark of electricity rushes through her, just like the other night when he had grabbed her to look closer at the wound on her forehead. She can tell by the look on his face that he’s felt the same thing.

She snatches her hand back and wipes her palm on the fabric of her skirt. She tries to regain her bearings. “Well. Pleasure doing business with you.”

With that, she stomps down the hallway and out the front doors. She yanks open the door to her car and gets in quickly.

She just sits there, trying to slow her breathing. She doesn’t leave the parking lot until the only other car left is the Jeep that she knows is his.

. . .

Oddly enough, Stiles respects her wishes.

She thought that he would try to ask her out again or wax poetics about being her true love, but he doesn’t. When she rejoins him, Scott, and Allison for lunch the following day, he greets her before turning back to his conversation on the new trilogy of Star Wars movies with Scott, leaving her to discuss her distaste for her English lit teacher with Allison.

And it continues like that for the next few weeks. It’s like everything is back to normal. Except Stiles is there and he’s actually a tolerable person to be around.

When Scott and Allison go off into their own little world during lunch, she used to awkwardly eat her food and focus her attention elsewhere. The first time it happens when Stiles is there, he shows her his phone, which has an image of a pair of sneakers pulled up.

“Should I get these,” he swipes to the next picture of another pair of sneakers, “or these?”

Lydia cocks her eyebrow at him, “You want my opinion on sneakers?”

“You seem to have good taste in footwear.” He says, looking pointedly at her pair of boots.

She can’t argue with that. “Show me the first photo again.”

He swipes and she considers both options in her mind before she decides, “The second one. Definitely the second one.”

Stiles nods, before tucking his phone back into his pocket. He takes a fry from his plate and tosses it at Scott, hitting him square in the jaw. Scott laughs and they go back and forth trying to throw fries into each other’s mouth before a teacher comes over and tells them to knock it off.

It’s… nice. She has to admit that it’s _nice_. She thought that seeing color would be one of the worst things to happen to her. But she might actually get a friend out of it.

Not that she would ever admit to Stiles that they’re friends. He might do something stupid, like smile at her. Or look at her like she’s – she still doesn’t know _what_ it is when he looks at her like that.

It stops being so nice when Allison practically corners her on the ride home from school. Her Mazda is in the shop to fix the dent from the accident, so Lydia has been bussing her to and from school out of the kindness of her heart. That might change judging by the way the conversation goes.

“When were you going to tell me that you can see color?” Allison asks, heated.

Lydia gapes, unsure how to respond. It’s not like she’s been meaning to keep it from her best friend. It’s just every time she works up the nerve to say something, it means she has to explain _why_ she can see color. And that involves telling her that Stiles is her soulmate and the weird deal they put in place which would lead to a whole other interrogation from Allison –

So, she might have put it off.

“Who says I can see color?” Lydia responds, playing dumb.

“Scott. Stiles told him and then he told me. I felt so stupid that I didn’t know my best friend can see color.” Allison mutters, obviously hurt from the omission.

“I’m sorry!” Lydia replies, and she genuinely means it. She hates hearing the pout in her friend’s voice and knowing she’s responsible. “I meant to tell you – I really did – but it’s just a lot to process –“

“Why aren’t you and Stiles together?” Allison asks, genuinely curious.

Lydia sighs, “Just because we’re soulmates doesn’t mean that we have to be together.”

“Well, what are you?”

“We’re…” _Friends_ is on the tip of Lydia’s tongue but she can’t seem to say it out loud. Part of her doesn’t want to admit that’s what he’s become to her. Another part of her knows that it’s not the correct definition for what they are.

“You’re what?"

“We have agreed to just be in each other’s lives. That’s all.” Lydia answers, as diplomatically as she can.

She can hear the wheels turning in Allison’s head. “Wait, what?”

“Technically speaking, a soulmate is just someone – “

“No, I know what a soulmate is.” Allison interjects, “I just can’t believe – I mean, who’s idea was this?”

“We didn’t have a say in it. It’s all science.”

“No, I mean who’s idea was it to ‘just be in each other’s lives?’” Allison asks pointedly.

Lydia pauses, but can’t lie to Allison, “It was my idea.”

“And Stiles agreed to it?”

“Well, yeah.” Lydia says. She’s not going to tell her that he tried to ask her out. That would only add fuel to the fire.

“You’re unbelievable.” Allison says, shaking her head.

“Me? How am I –“

“This is a good thing, Lydia. Can you not see that?”

Lydia snaps her mouth shut, adjusts her hands on the steering wheel. “Not all soulmates are like you and Scott.”

“Not all soulmates are like your parents. You’re not even giving him a chance. I honestly can’t even believe he would agree to this. You should see the way that he looks at you.”

Lydia rolls her eyes. She’s very well aware of the way he looks at her, thank you very much.

“It’s none of your business. I’m sorry Scott is such a girl and can’t help but gossip.” Lydia says, adding a little bit of a bite to her tone.

Allison pauses, “I’m only fighting you on this because I care about you. I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” Lydia states, “I’d be even happier if we stopped talking about this.”

“Fine.” Allison acquiesces. Lydia rolls her shoulders, releasing the tension that had coiled there.

It’s fine. Everything is totally fine.

. . .

Everything is not fine.

Lydia is drunker than she can ever remember being. She really didn’t mean to let it go this far, but she also didn’t anticipate the sequence of events that would unfold throughout the night.

Tonight is the first lacrosse game of the season and Beacon Hills dominates Northwestern. For the first time since she’s started high school, the post-game party is being held at Danny’s house. She no longer has an obligation to play host now that she’s no longer dating the co-captain. She’s relieved honestly, because she never got to have much fun at her own parties; she was always worried about people creating a mess or making sure that Jackson stayed happy, which he rarely did.

Tonight is the first time that Lydia can let her hair down. Allison agrees to DD and she gets to go over and prep at her house, since both Scott and Stiles will be meeting them at the party.

Lydia had been surprised that Stiles made the team. When he was called in at the start of the second half, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. It also doesn’t hurt that he pulled off a pretty impressive assist to Scott that landed them the winning point of the game.

She shimmies out of her leggings and sweater and slips on a sparkly pink dress. She examines herself closely in Allison’s mirror, smoothing her hands over the pebbled fabric. She sees Allison roll her eyes from her place on the bed where she’s re-curling her hair.

“What?” Lydia asks.

“Center of attention much?” Allison teases. Lydia can only smirk.

They’re at the party, standing by the pool with red solo cups in their hands. It’s in full swing, with bad EDM music blasting from the outdoor speakers and plenty of people crowding the patio. It’s only a matter of time before someone strips off their clothes and jumps into the pool.

Lydia drains the rest of the beer in her cup as Allison clears her throat. “Jackson at your six o’clock.”

Lydia rolls her eyes, but feels a hand come and rest on her back. She jumps instinctively and turns around. Jackson smirks at her, but it comes off as more of a sneer to Lydia.

“Hey, I didn’t think you would come.” Jackson starts, the corner of his mouth upturning a tad more.

“Wouldn’t be much of a party if I wasn’t here.” Lydia says, shifting away from his hand on her back. Another time, it would have made her stomach flutter. Now, it makes her want to hurl.

“I just figured that you wouldn’t want to show your face at a lacrosse party when the co-captain dumped you.” Jackson comments maliciously. Allison steps forward, as if to intervene. 

“Where is Erica, by the way? I haven’t seen her anywhere.” Lydia interjects. She makes a show of looking around the patio, “Can she not be seen with you after you fumbled the ball in the last half? I definitely wouldn’t show my face if I was her.”

Jackson’s smirk falls. He opens his mouth to fire back just as Scott and Stiles find them through the throng of people and join their circle. Scott hugs Allison from behind, which drains some of the tension from the conversation. Lydia can feel Stiles’ eyes lingering on her as she stands off against Jackson.

“Hey, sorry we’re late. Stiles’ Jeep was having some issues.” Scott apologizes, mostly to Allison. But Lydia has always been an opportunist.

“No worries, Scott,” she assures, voice dripping in sickly sugar, “Jackson was just telling us how lucky he is to have you as co-captain. After all, you saved his ass out there on the field. Isn’t that right, Jackson?”

Jackson’s glare hardens on Lydia, but she stands her ground, even if she has to look up at him in her four-inch heels. “Fuck you,” he spits.

“Hey man –“ Stiles interjects, stepping forward. Lydia holds up her hand and he stops in his place.

“Bye, Jackson.” Lydia says with a smile. He huff and stomps off to the other side of the pool where a couple of other lacrosse players are shooting the shit. She turns back to the circle, where Scott and Allison are watching her.

“I am so proud of you.” Allison beams.

“Yeah, whatever.” Lydia murmurs, stubbing the toe of her heel into the cobblestone patio. Now that he’s gone, she wishes she hadn’t said anything to him. She wants to say that he doesn’t affect her, but he still has some kind of weird hold on her. It feels like insulting him – as much as he deserved it – was just playing right into his hands.

“It’s not whatever,” Allison goes on, “he basically just ran away with his balls tucked between his legs.”

“Okay, let’s not talk about Jackson’s balls. I don’t need that visual.” Scott pleads.

Allison laughs, stepping back into Scott’s arms and planting a kiss on him.

She jumps again when she feels a hand at the small of her back, but this time it’s a warm, inviting feeling that crawls up her spine. She looks to her left and see Stiles peering down at her, concern in his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks gently, so it’s just between them.

“I’m fine.” Lydia lies, tilting her chin up.

Stiles nods and looks at the ground for a moment before looking back up at her, “You look really pretty tonight.” She flushes at the compliment and hates herself the second she does. She knows she looks good. It shouldn’t matter hearing it from someone else. “I like your dress,” he continues, “you’re like a pink disco ball.”

The imagery is enough to startle a laugh out of her. She recovers quickly as his eyebrows raise, “Really, a pink disco ball? That’s the best you can do?”

Stiles gapes for a moment but she doesn’t give him a chance to respond. She turns back to Scott and Allison and raises her empty cup. “I’m gonna get another drink. Anyone else want one?”

“I’m good for the rest of the night.” Allison says, throwing her cup into the nearby trash can.

“I’ll take one.” Scott says, wrapping an arm around Allison as she shivers.

Lydia looks over at Stiles expectantly. “I’m not drinking, I drove here.”

“One beer isn’t going to kill you.”

“It will. My dad’s the sheriff.”

Lydia huffs, “Fine. More for me and Scott.”

Stiles groans, “I can at least help you with the keg.”

She gives him a look, which stops him in his tracks from following her. “I can handle it myself, thanks.”

She flips her hair over her shoulder, sashaying up the patio steps and sliding open the back door. She can still feel the warm imprint of his hand on the small of her back, the words _you look really pretty tonight_ playing on a loop in her head.

It’s a lot warmer in the kitchen. There’s a couple people lingering around, but the real noise of the party is outside with the music – which has now switched to hard rap – and the moving bodies.

Lydia waits in the short line for the keg, crossing her arms over her chest. She can tell her dress is drawing a lot of attention; she sticks out like a sore thumb in the bright lights of the kitchen. They can stare all they want. She likes how she looks.

The keg finally frees up, and she grabs another cup before picking up the nozzle. A large hand wraps around her petite one, prying the nozzle from her fingertips. She looks up and sees Aidan smiling back down at her.

Aidan is one of the slices of fresh meat she was telling Allison about all those weeks ago. He looks hot in the lacrosse uniform, but even hotter out of it in a fitted Henley and jeans. She can’t help but trail her eyes over his exquisite form, a tad too long so that he knows she’s noticed him.

“Let me.” He says, bringing her back to the conversation.

“I know how a keg works.” She says indignantly, taking the nozzle back from him and expertly pouring the first drink in no time. She starts filling the second while maintaining eye contact.

“You know, that’s not a very nice way to treat someone who was just offering to help.” He tells her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” She teases, pouting her lips a little bit.

He grins, but sobers when he meets her eye again, “It’s also not very nice to ghost a guy when he’s just trying to get to know you.”

Lydia freezes. Right – _that._

She hadn’t been kidding when she said she needed a distraction. She set out at the very beginning of the year to do just that. Aidan was perfect for her – he’s very attractive and she knew that he wouldn’t be looking for anything serious. She got his number from Scott and started texting him while she was bored over her calculus homework.

But that was before, when the world was in black and white. Now that she’s seeing him in full color, she doesn’t feel the same pool of desire in her stomach as she once did whenever she would check him out on the lacrosse field.

She recognizes that this would be a perfect opportunity to get back at Jackson. Hooking up with Aidan would show that she’s totally over their mess of a relationship. The part of her that’s still reeling from Jackson’s _fuck you_ has her saying, “Maybe I just wanted to see you work for it. See how badly you wanted it.”

His eyes light up at the prospect of a challenge. He takes another step into her space, trailing his hand down her waist, “I can show you how bad I want it.”

She looks down at his hands on her waist and then trails back up to his eyes. They’re a muddy brown, the iris blown wide as he looks at her. It would be so easy to close the space between them – to use him as a distraction and to stop thinking about Jackson, about seeing the world in color, about having a soulmate.

But it’s not what she wants.

What she wants is to see a fleck of amber, an upturned nose, a mole on the left side of the mouth. She wants to feel the warm flannel under her palms and to feel long fingers wrapping around her waist. In that moment, she so wants it to be _Stiles_ propositioning her in the middle of the kitchen.

It’s that jarring thought that has her pushing Aidan away. She regains whatever composure she has and says, “Maybe another time.”

She grabs the drinks and marches out of the kitchen back onto the patio. Her heart is hammering in her chest and she feels like she can’t breathe. She seeks out Stiles through the crowd of people and sees him standing across from Scott and Allison, no doubt telling a long-winded story about Star Wars or their lacrosse coach or his dad.

She feels a slight pull in her chest that wants to be close to him. It’s that feeling that causes her to yell, “Danny!” when she spots her friend coming up from the basement of his house with a crate of hard seltzers.

“What’s up, Martin?” he asks, handing the box off to someone else.

“Please tell me you have something harder than this.” She says, lifting her cups of beer. He smirks.

Moments later, she’s back down in the basement with Danny, a handle of tequila between them as they clink their shot glasses together. She throws hers back and barely feels the burn slide down her throat.

“You want to tell me what this is about?” Danny inquires. She knows that she could tell Danny anything and he wouldn’t tell another soul in Beacon Hills. However, just the thought of trying to elaborate her feelings for Stiles makes her stomach churn.

“Just assume that my life is a fucking mess.” She explains before lifting her empty shot glass. “Pour me another, please?”

Two shots of tequila later, she follows Danny out of the basement with Scott’s beer in hand. She makes a beeline for Allison, who is still situated by the pool and keeping a lively conversation with Scott and Stiles.

Stiles’ eyes light up when they see her but drop with concern when she stumble a little over the patch of grass her heel gets stuck in. It takes all her will power to keep staring straight ahead and to not let him affect her.

“Hey, we were wondering what was taking so long –“ he starts.

She quickly deposits that cup of beer in Scott’s hand and roughly grasps Allison’s hands in hers. “I wanna dance!”

Lydia does not allow room for argument as she pulls Allison into the crowd that has formed around the speakers. Luckily, the tunes have turned to top 40s pop, which is more Lydia’s speed. She starts dancing to the beat of the song, running her hands up her body and swinging her hips from side to side.

Allison matches her moves but looks at Lydia in concern, “Hey, everything okay? You were gone for a long time.”

“There was a line at the keg and – and – I just wanna dance with you and have fun, is that okay?” Lydia yells over the music, still moving her body to the rhythm of the song.

Allison smiles. She grabs Lydia’s hands and starts to move them in time with the music. Lydia twirls Allison under her arm, which makes her laugh because she has to duck to clear it.

Too many songs to count later, Allison goes back to Scott while Lydia heads back to the kitchen. Now, there’s a cooler filled with punch – or _jungle juice,_ as Danny had warned – and she fills up a cup for herself. She’s more than halfway through it when she makes it back outside, having gotten derailed in a conversation with Danny about their chemistry teacher.

It’s when she’s back outside that it hits her how much alcohol she’s had. She’s by no means a lightweight, but even she knows she’s had a lot to drink for someone her size. Her vision is tunneled and she’s finding it harder to walk in her four-inch stilts.

She heads for the stairs and grips the railing tightly as she takes the steps one at a time, like a baby dear. She collides with another body at the bottom of the stairs. Strong hands grip her forearms and straighten her. She drops the rest of the punch in the lawn, which she feels bad about for half a second before she sees that it’s Stiles who has manhandled her.

Her grip automatically goes to clutch at the front of his flannel, the fabric incredibly soft and warm under her cold hands. She can feel his heart hammering in his chest through his t-shirt. In a moment of weakness, she leans her head against his sternum and takes a deep breath. He smells like crisp apples and cedar and a little bit of musk and it’s so – _Stiles_. It almost makes her want to cry.

She feels his hands wrap around her gently and start to rub some warmth into her back. “Jesus Christ, Lyds. You’re freezing.”

 _Lyds._ Her heart clenches even tighter. “I’m not that cold.” She mumbles. And it’s true, it feels like her insides are on fire. She hadn’t even noticed how much the temperature had dropped. “You smell really good.” She can’t help but confess, inhaling deeply once again.

“Okay, exactly how much have you had to drink?” Stiles asks, laughter clear in his voice.

She musters the strength to pull away from him so she can look at him properly. He keeps his hands on her shoulders as he looks down at her.

“Just a few drinks.” She says, which isn’t a total lie.

“Don’t act like you haven’t kept a detailed mental list of all the alcohol you’ve consumed.” He berates lightly, “Come on, let me know what I’m working with here.”

“Well, I had the beer you saw when you got here,” he nods, waiting for her to go on, “then I found Danny and he had tequila so I had about three shots of that –“

“You and Danny had three shots of tequila?”

“No, he only had one. But he didn’t want me to be alone while I took the other two. Moral support.”

“Right, okay, sure.”

“And then Allison and I danced for a little bit and then I got some _jungle juice –“_

“Okay, so you’re fucked up."

Lydia considers the statement for a moment. “In laymen’s terms, yes.”

“Time to go.” He declares, wrapping his arm around his shoulder. He starts to steer her towards Scott and Allison, but Aidan intercepts them on their path.

He sizes up Stiles and it seems like Stiles does the same. Something in the exchange causes Aiden to look at her with concern, “Everything okay Lydia? Change your mind about earlier?"

The smirk on his face and her extremely inebriated state causes her to snap. “Fuck off, Aidan. I’m not gonna fuck you. Get over it.”

Aidan gapes for a moment before he says, “O-kay.” He gives one last look to Stiles, nodding, “Stilinski.”

“Aidan.” She feels rather than hears him say. He keeps his arm tight around her shoulders as he approaches Scott and Allison, who are cuddled up together on a deserted lounge chair.

Allison shoots up right away at the sight of her friend tucked under Stiles’ arm. “Lydia, are you okay?”

“Oh my god, you guys! Please stop overreacting, I’m fine, I’m not even that _drunk.”_ She says, but it doesn’t land the way she wants because _drunk_ sounds more like _dornk_ coming out of her mouth.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone.” Allison says and Lydia hates the fact that she sounds so guilty.

“You don’t have to babysit me. I can take care of myself.” Lydia says. She means it to be reassuring but it comes off more petulant than she intends.

Allison looks forlornly at Scott, “I should take her home.”

“No!” She says suddenly, causing all three of their attentions to snap to her. “No, I can’t ask you to do that. I know you’re having a good time together and I don’t want to ruin your night.”

“You’re not ruining my night –“

“Listen, how about this,” she claps her hands, “you guys stay, enjoy each other’s company, and I will walk home.”

“Lydia –“

“No, it will be good. It will help me sober up – not that I’m _drunk,_ because _I’m not –_ but the fresh air will help me clear my head and my house isn’t that far from here –“

“Or why don’t I just take her home and you guys stay?” Stiles interjects, holding up the keys to his Jeep.

Lydia freezes at the realization that her plan is backfiring on her. She opens her mouth to say something, _anything_ , but Allison beats her to the punch.

“Are you sure, Stiles? I drove her here. I am totally fine to take her home.”

“I’m sure. As much as she’s drunk off her ass –“

“ _Hey –“_

“—she’s right. You’re having a good time. And I should get back before my dad starts to worry. Nothing ruins your reputation like the sheriff showing up to break up the party.” Stiles reasons.

Allison laughs at that. “You make a good point.”

“Just make sure you get Scott home in one piece, okay?” Stiles says, already steering Lydia to exit through the backyard.

“Will do!” Allison calls.

Lydia looks back over her shoulder at her friends. Allison leans her head against Scott’s shoulder as he whispers something in her ear. She knows she did the right thing for her friend.

Stiles keeps his hand on the small of her back, just a guiding presence as she stumbles in her heels up the small uphill slope of the backyard to the street where the Jeep is park. Her heels keep getting lodged into the soft dirt, but Stiles just offers his arm so she can use him as leverage to wedge herself out.

Once they’re back on solid ground and heading down the sidewalk, she expects him to let go. But he keeps his hand on the small of her back all the same. She wants to snap and tell him that she doesn’t need any help, but she’s scared of how cold she’ll be when he moves away from her.

They make it to the Jeep and he opens the passenger side door for her. Something about the invitation makes her freeze up all over again. She hasn’t spent one-on-one time with him since that day he cornered her after school. She’s not at all ready for a car ride home with him.

In a last ditch effort, she says, “I’m seriously good to walk from here –“

“I’m not letting you walk home alone at this time of night. Especially in your condition.”

“I have pepper spray –“

“Lydia, for the love of _god,_ get your cute little ass in my Jeep right now.”

She shuts her mouth and does as she’s told for once. She clambers into the passenger seat and Stiles shuts the door before jogging over to the driver’s side. He buckles himself in and ends up doing hers as well, as her hands can’t stop shaking.

She gives him her address and he puts it into the GPS. She leans her head against the window and feels the lull of the road as he drives. Her drunkenness is rolling over her now and she can’t stand the silence of the car. She also can’t stand the way she feels his eyes glancing over at her every so often.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I never do this?” she asks.

“Yeah, I can tell by the way Scott was looking at you back there.”

“What do you mean?”

“He got that startled look on his face, like you were a dog that got hit by a car or something.”

Lydia huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Geez, you really know how to make a girl feel special.”

His gaze snaps to look at her, panicked. “That’s not what I meant –“

“Relax, Stiles.” She placates, mostly because she can’t stand the thought of him trying to tell her she’s pretty again. She knows she looks a mess, as some of her mascara has rubbed off onto the tips of her fingers and she hasn’t even thought about reapplying her lipstick in the last hour.

She buries her face in her hands, mostly out of embarrassment. This is also another reason why she never gets drunk; she likes to be _in control._ Nothing about this situation – her being completely inebriated, in Stiles’ Jeep of all places – makes her feel in control.

Stiles notices her hunched over position and places a hand on her shoulder. “Are you gonna be sick?”

“I don’t get sick.” She replies.

“Right. Just like you never do this.”

She looks up from her hands to glare at him but he’s giving her that _look_ again and she just can’t do this right now.

She needs some air.

“Stiles, pull over.”

“Oh my god, you really are gonna be sick.”

“Just – pull over or I will jump out of a moving vehicle.”

He steers the Jeep to the side of the road, against a curb in front of a residential park. She unbuckles her seat belt and swings the door open just as he parks. Her feet are starting to throb so she stumbles a little out of the car but quickly corrects herself. She goes around to the front of the car and leans against the bumper.

Stiles is out of the car and next to her in a flash. “Do you need me to hold your hair or –“

“I’m not going to be sick.”

“Are you sure? Because just a second ago –“

“Can you shut up for a second? I need to think.”

She can tell that he wants to say something else, but he clamps his mouth shut. She takes a deep breath as he leans against the front bumper next to her. They sit in silence for what feels like an eternity as Lydia tries to make sense of everything that’s happening in her head. The fact that he’s so close to her, but not close enough to be touching her, is making her mind do somersaults.

She tilts her head up and looks at the night sky. She thinks back to what it looked like before she met him.

“The night sky looks so different now.”

“Hmm?” he says, his mind clearly elsewhere.

“Before everything, I used to think that the night was just, like, _darkness –“_ Stiles laughs, and okay, she can admit it’s not the smartest thing she’s ever said. She still reaches out and smacks him in the chest.

“Hey!”

“I thought the sky was going to be pitch black, but it’s not _._ It’s like this beautiful, deep blue color and the stars are so much clearer. Look,” she says, pointing up at a cluster of stars, “I could never find Orion’s Belt before, but it’s been right in front of my face this entire time. And the moon is like this beautiful cream color and you can see the craters all the way from down here when it’s full. And, I’ve never been to the Arctic Circle, but there’s the Aurora Borealis –“

“The northern lights.” Stiles supplies.

“And it’s so much more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. I could just sit here for hours and stare at the sky and I wouldn’t even notice.” She looks over at him and she can see that he’s been hanging onto every word that she’s been saying. It makes her press her lips together, makes her feel likes she’s said too much.

“That’s how I felt seeing the sun rise for the first time.” He says softly, almost like a confession.

“Really?”

“Yeah. It was actually that first night,” he clears his throat, but she knows what he means. The first night they met. “I couldn’t sleep because I was so wired from everything that had happened. I crawled out to the roof and just sat there and watched the sun rise. It was – I mean, there’s no words. It was –“

He looks over at her then, having been so caught up in his memory. She realizes she’s been hanging onto every word he’s been saying, too.

“It was breathtaking.”

She smiles, before pressing her lips together again. There’s something about him that makes all the walls she’s put up crumble in a second. That makes her want to pull over to the side of the road and ramble about the sky and the moon and the stars.

He’s looking at her with impossibly soft eyes and it sends shivers down her spine. She crosses her arms over her chest and rubs her arms, trying to play it off as if the night air is bothering her.

It works in the worst way possible. He starts to shrug off his flannel, revealing the grey long sleeve shirt he’s wearing underneath. She tries to stop him, “Stiles –“

“I have so many layers on and you’re wearing practically nothing. Please, take it.”

He holds it up to her, nods for her to turn around. She does so and he helps her slip it on and rubs her arms when she’s pulled them through the sleeves. She wraps it around her front and it smells just like him.

“Thank you.” She mumbles, embarrassed.

“Alcohol can only keep you warm for so long.” He jokes.

“That’s not how it works. It’s the thermoreceptors in my skin detecting a rise in temperature due to the increase in blood flow caused by the alcohol. Which gives the illusion that I’m warmer than I actually am.”

His hands are still rubbing up and down her arms and he’s giving her that look again and it makes her want to _scream._ She looks down at her heels, her feet still throbbing where they are strapped in. “I wish you wouldn’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” he asks instinctually.

“Like _that.”_ She replies, pulling away. She starts working on the strap on her right shoe so she has an excuse to look away from him. She misjudges her balance and stumbles forward over to the curb on one foot.

Stiles grabs her by the waist before she can fully face-plant into the cement. He helps her sit down on the curb and she frees her feet from her heels. She can already feel the blisters forming on her toes from where they were squished together.

He sits next to her on the curb, close enough that their thighs touch. She can feel his hand hovering at her back. He’s being so _nice_ to her and it just makes her feel worse.

She keeps her gaze resolutely on her lap. The sparkles of her dress catch the street lamp every so often. It helps distract her from the fact that they are sitting so close and he is so obviously looking at her, waiting for her to say something.

“My parents are divorced.”

“Um, okay?”

“They were soulmates.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” She agrees. “Did you date anyone before you moved here?”

She can tell from the furrow in his brow that he’s confused, but she finally looks at him imploringly and he goes along with it. “No. I mean, unless you count Mandy from pre-school.”

“Why not?”

“Uh, well.” He clears his throat, “You know, my parents were soulmates, too. But my mom passed away when I was really young and I think seeing my dad so broken up about it made me realize that no other relationship could compare. It didn’t make much sense to date if they weren’t my soulmate. Also, doesn’t help that most girls won’t even look in my direction.”

He laughs but it falls flat when she looks at him, “Don’t put yourself down like that. You’re –“

She trails off, unsure how to finish her thought. He flushes anyways. “What about you? If Aidan’s anything to go by, I’m sure there’s plenty of people tripping over themselves to go out with you.”

She purses her lips and looks down at her lap again. She realizes that she has to be the most selfish person in the world. Not once during her entire relationship did she think about her soulmate. But he waited for her.

“It was Jackson, right?” he asks, but it’s not really a question. He’s looking ahead, out onto the street. Her silence spurs him on, “I figured there might be something there after he made you so upset tonight.”

“If it’s any consolation, I got what I deserved in that relationship. He cheated on me with a sophomore.”

“Lydia –“

“You don’t have to try to make me feel better about it. I am over it. He just – he acts like he has something over me because of it.”

“He’s a piece of shit. And you don’t deserve that. You deserve so much better, Lydia. You’re so smart and amazing and beautiful and anyone would be lucky to have you in their lives. _I’m_ lucky to have you in my life.”

She looks at him and she can tell he means it. She can feel the pinpricks of tears coming to her eyes and she looks away, across the street. She nods because she doesn’t know what else to do. The motion makes a couple of tears dribble down her face.

She hates herself so much in this moment. How could he see anything good in her?

“Stiles, I need a favor.” She says, wiping her tears and meeting his gaze. He nods, urging her to go on. “I need you to listen to me. No matter how I might treat you tomorrow or how much I will try to deny that this conversation ever happened.”

“Um, okay?”

“Okay.” She takes a deep breath and, on impulse, grabs his hand from where it’s resting on the curb in between them. “You don’t deserve any of the way that I’ve been treating you. I don’t deserve you. But, if you just give me another chance, I know I can be the person you think I am. I can come around.”

Her heart is in her throat. She knows that she wouldn’t be saying any of this if it were any other night. But that doesn’t make it any less true. She means it.

She can’t look at this face and instead keeps her eyes on their hands together. He’s intertwined their fingers and he’s gently brushing his thumb over her knuckles.

The silence goes on and on. She’s about to take it back and save herself from the humiliation of it all, when he says, “Okay.”

She looks at him then and he has that look on his face. It doesn’t make her want to run. Instead, it makes her want to stay.

“Okay?”

“You’re worth the wait.”

She smiles, ducks her head down into the flannel she’s wearing.

His phone vibrates loudly in his pocket, popping the bubble that they’ve created. He pulls it out and the screen lights up his face. “Shit. My dad.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, he’s just asking where I am.” He types something out and presses send before slipping it back into his pocket. “I should get you home.” He stands and helps her up from the curb, bends over to pick up her heels and gives them to her.

She wipes the bottom of her lashes with her fingers. He’s about to loop back around to the driver’s side when she says, “Stiles, I need another favor.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“I need you to be honest with me, and I mean one hundred percent honest.”

“Sure.”

“How bad do I look?”

He smiles tenderly, closing the distance between them. Gently, he tucks her hair behind her ears, out of her face. “You look beautiful.”

Her heart flutters and she flushes, can feel it down to her throbbing toes. Her eyes flick down to his lips and, really, it would be so easy to lean forward and _kiss him._

“I mean, there’s a little bit of snot right there, but –“

Lydia scoffs and shoves him away. He laughs but goes willingly. The sound makes her feel lighter and she floats to the passenger seat. She buckles her seat belt and settles in for the ride home.

. . .

Things change between them after that.

Stiles is usually the first one to greet her when she gets to school and meets her at her locker after the final bell. They start doing their homework together, her sitting crossed legged while Stiles sprawls his lanky body across the bed. She goes to lacrosse practices with Allison to watch him after school; when it gets later in the season, he lends her his team windbreaker so she doesn’t freeze her ass off. She tries not to blush at the fact that his name is displayed proudly on her back.

When there isn’t a party to attend or when Allison and Scott use the weekend to do their own thing, Lydia usually ends up with Stiles. She will take him shopping with her sometimes when she feels the urge, using him to hold all the clothes she wants to try on while she peruses the store. She makes him sit outside the dressing room dutifully, only sometimes asking for his opinion on a pair of jeans or a dress that she’s on the fence about. He tells her she looks good in anything, so she spends more than she used to.

Sometimes, they’ll end up at his house, on the couch in the living room to watch a movie. He finally gets her to watch Star Wars with him. She doesn’t tell him that she actually really likes the movies, but she’s sure that he knows considering they watch them in silence, which is a rarity for her. She usually likes to point out any scientific discrepancies, but there’s something about the way that he loves them so dearly that makes her bite her tongue.

Although, she can’t help but give him a look when they watch Return of the Jeidi and Princess Leia comes on screen in her bikini. “Really?”

“Would it make it any better if I told you that she kills Jabba?”

“No.”

“Noted.”

She meets Sheriff Stilinski one night and he corrals her into having dinner with them. It’s so different from the dinners that she has with her mom, where they sit across the table from each other and have stilted conversations.

In the Stilinski household, they all chip in to make dinner, which has her tossing together a garden salad while the Sheriff grills turkey burgers on the patio and Stiles prepares the fries and toppings. When they sit down to eat, the sheriff asks her the go-to questions that any parent asks but it’s not interrogative. The conversation takes a turn when Stiles is able to pry case information out of his dad, after he swears them to secrecy. They tell her stories of their lives in San Francisco before they moved here and she shares tidbits of her summer vacations to Boston to visit her dad.

When she tells them that her annual Thanksgiving plans with her mom are ordering takeout, the sheriff says, “Well, that’s a shame. You and your mom should come over to our house this year. I make a mean stuffing.”

“Oh, Mr. Stilinski, I couldn’t impose –“

“Nonsense. I’m making Stiles do the turkey this year, so you should come just to have a front row seat to that disaster.”

Stiles groans, “ _Dad.”_

It makes her heart clench when she goes to the bathroom and overhears their hushed conversation.

“I don’t understand why you two aren’t together.”

“I’m working on it.” Stiles says begrudgingly, like they’ve had this conversation a thousand times before.

“She seems to like you enough.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“When your mother and I met, we were basically inseparable. Are you sure you guys are soulmates?” She can tell that his dad is teasing, but it still makes her heart drop.

She can hear Stiles sigh. Something in his voice changes when he says, “She said that she could come around. She just needs time.”

The sheriff clears his throat, “Well, you have all the time in the world. Hopefully it won’t take that long.”

She’s heard enough. She feels guilty for eavesdropping for so long, so she makes sure to stomp the few paces to the dining room so they know she’s coming. The sheriff looks over at her and smiles before getting up from the table.

“I think it’s time for this old man to turn in. Do you kids mind doing the dishes?”

“I’d be happy to.” Lydia agrees sweetly.

The sheriff nods, turning back to Stiles to give him a one-arm hug. “Good night.”

The sheriff surprises her when he walks over to her and gives her a hug, too, just a quick embrace before moving past her to head up the stairs. She can’t even remember the last time that her mom hugged her. Maybe Christmas of last year.

Stiles stacks the empty plates from the table and walks over to her. “You don’t have to do the dishes, I can take care of it.”

She smiles and follows him to the kitchen. “You wash, I’ll dry.”

In the grand scheme of things, there’s really nothing stopping her from being with Stiles. Not like they aren’t already basically together – they’re pretty much attached at the hip – but there’s a part of her that craves more.

She’s started noticing him in a different way these past few weeks. When he stretches out on the bed while they’re doing homework, she watches the sliver of skin that appears when his shirt rides up. She can tell that, even though he doesn’t get much playtime during the games, the practices are enough to keep him in good shape. She watches his hands when he’s getting into a story he’s telling her, the way his fingers so delicately flip the pages of a book he’s reading for class when they’re alone together. She wonders how they would feel seared into her skin.

It would be so easy for her to make a move. More often than not, her eyes dart down to his lips when they have a conversation. She wonders what it would feel like to just lean forward and kiss him. To feel his lips move in time with hers and to see him put his hands to good use. Just the thought of it makes desire pool in her stomach as she watches him scrub the dishes meticulously before handing them off to her to dry.

She wonders if he’s noticed the way she looks at him. She hopes she’s not obvious, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he caught on by now.

Despite everything, Lydia can’t bring herself to take the next step. She knows that he won’t do anything until she lets him know how she feels. There’s a part of her that still feels like it shouldn’t be this easy. She shouldn’t just get a soulmate so perfect for her without some kind of catch. Lydia doesn’t deserve something so good, especially considering how selfish she’s been in the past.

A lot of the time, the look of hurt that flashed across his face when she turned him down plays on a loop in her head. She doesn’t want to hurt him again by jumping into anything too suddenly. And she promised him that she was going to try to be someone who deserved him. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever get to that point.

There’s also the image of boxes lining her foyer and disappearing one by one in the back of her mind. The feeling of her heart sinking in her chest as her mother tells her that her father is moving across the country. She tries to bury that memory but it resurfaces whenever she gets her hopes up about Stiles.

The most intimate change in their relationship is that he is usually the last person she talks to before she goes to bed. They don’t really talk about anything. Sometimes he will ask her for help on homework for the classes they don’t share or he’ll complain about Scott dragging him into the middle of his relationship with Allison.

A lot of the time, he’ll just ask her how her day was, which he knows because they spend the majority of it together. She tells him anyways and they go from there.

Tonight is no different. They’ve been on the phone for three hours. They haven’t been talking the entire time – there will be long bits of silence as they both get caught up in whatever they are doing. It’s just nice to know that there’s someone on the other end of the line.

She can hear Stiles yawn loudly into the receiver, “Jesus, midnight came fast.”

“Go to bed then.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Stalking Instagram.”

There’s silence on the phone again, but he hasn’t hung up. She can hear him shifting around, like he’s pulling the sheets on his bed back. He yawns again, but further away from the speaker.

“I can let you go if you’re tired.” She starts, closing out of Instagram.

“Wait!” he says, suddenly close again. “I don’t want to hang up yet.”

“Yeah?” she asks, a smile creeping onto her face.

“Yeah.” He says. She swears she can hear a smile in his voice, too. “Why don’t you explain the laws of motion to me? I have that exam in physics tomorrow.”

“You know the laws of motion. I helped you study.”

“Doesn’t hurt to really hit it home, you know.” Stiles pauses. “Just -- can you keep talking to me?”

Lydia swallows. “Okay.” She says, a little breathily. She snuggles down into the comforter of her bed before she starts, “The first law is the law of inertia. It states that an object at rest stays at rest and an object in motion will stay in motion with the same speed and in the same direction until another force acts upon it…”

She goes on and on until she can hear the faint snores on his end. She stops talking and listens to him for a moment. If she closes her eyes, it’s almost like he’s here with her, lying on the other side of her bed. It’s embarrassing how much she wants him to be here.

But this is close enough.

. . .

Things change again when Malia Tate comes into the picture.

She’s new to Beacon Hills, having just transferred here after moving from New Mexico. The end of the semester is about a month away, so there’s a lot for her to catch up on. That’s where Stiles comes in. She’s been placed in most of his classes, so naturally he agrees to help her with schoolwork.

Malia slowly starts to seep into Lydia’s life. She joins them for lunch, often tags along to meet up with them at the end of the day by Lydia’s locker, and sometimes will join them for afternoon homework sessions. She learns how much of a patient teacher Stiles is when he has to walk her through the quadratic formula on five separate occasions.

It’s not that Malia is becoming a fixture in Lydia’s life – it’s more so that she’s becoming entangled with Stiles.

Lydia knows that Malia _likes_ Stiles. She can see it in the way that she laughs at every joke he tells and the way that she leans in a little too close when he’s talking to her. It makes Lydia’s blood boil. It makes Lydia want to do something about it.

But she and Stiles – they’re still not _together._ She knows they’re on the precipice of something, but they’re not quite there yet. And she knows he’s waiting on her and really she should just stake her claim on him. But something about the way that Malia is so obviously into Stiles and the fact that he’s not doing anything about it –

It makes her second guess everything.

When Malia approaches her in between class periods, she does her best to paste on smile. Despite her newfound jealousy, she does like Malia and wants to be her friend.

“Hey.” Lydia greets, closing her locker door and leaning against it.

“Hey, do you know if Stiles has a date to the winter formal?”

The winter formal is a couple weeks away. It’s caused a newfound buzz in the school as people obsess over what they’re going to wear and who’s going with who. Lydia assumed – stupidly, she supposes in this moment – that Stiles was going to ask her. But, as of late, it seems like he’s taking the lead from her on everything in their relationship. Maybe he was waiting for her on this one, too.

Malia’s looking at her and Lydia doesn’t know what to say. So she answers truthfully, “I don’t know. He hasn’t mentioned anything to me about it.”

“Great, so I have a chance.”

“What?”

“I was thinking of asking him. Do you think he wants to go?”

Lydia feels exposed, but Malia is looking at her like she genuinely wants to know her opinion. She figured that Stiles would have told Malia that he has a soulmate already, but maybe it just never came up in conversation. Or maybe he’s ashamed that his soulmate is emotionally stunted and didn’t want to say anything.

Maybe he likes Malia, too.

She knows very well that she could tell Malia that he’s her soulmate. In fact, she would probably be doing her a favor, but the words still won’t come out of her mouth.

Instead, she says, “I don’t know. There’s no harm in asking.”

“You’re right. Thanks, Lydia.” Malia squeezes her arm before skipping down the hallway to her next class.

Lydia hits her head on the locker behind her. She knew her self-destructive side was going to make an appearance at some point.

It doesn’t bite her in the ass until a couple of days later.

She tries avoiding Stiles, but it doesn’t work. She skips lunch and blows him off for studying after school, but when he calls her later that night, she can’t help but pick up.

“Hey, I feel like I didn’t see you at all today. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” She lies.

Her mom is out of town for the weekend and Allison and Scott have gone on a camping trip with Allison’s family, so there’s not really a reason for her to bail on Stiles when he asks to hang out on Saturday night. He comes over to her house for a movie night; he brings the snacks and she gets to pick what they watch. 

They’re squished together on the couch, shoulder to shoulder so they can share the bowl of popcorn. They get about halfway through 13 Going On 30 when Stiles turns to her. “So, winter formal is next week.”

“Astute observation.”

“Malia asked me to go with her.”

Lydia resolutely keeps her gaze forward, “Did she?”

“She did.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I turned her down.”

“Oh.”

“I told her I had a soulmate. And then when I told her who, she told me that my soulmate is the one who told her that she should ask me to the formal.”

 _Fuck._ She pauses the movies at the edge in his voice, “I didn’t _tell_ her to ask you.”

“Well, what did you say then? Because she made it sound like you gave her your blessing.”

Lydia swallows and looks at Stiles. He’s gazing at her expectantly. “She asked me if you were going with anyone and, when I told her I didn’t know, she said she was going to ask you. Then she asked me if you wanted to go and I told her that it couldn’t hurt to ask.”

“Oh my god, Lydia.“ He groans, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“Are you mad?” She questions. 

“I’m not mad.” Stiles runs his hands through his hair, obviously frustrated. “Okay, I’m mad – I just don’t know if I should be mad at you or myself.”

“What?”

“ _Lydia,”_ he says, exasperated. He’s glaring at her, which is new, “what are we doing?”

She glances from his face to the television, “Watching a movie?”

“No, I mean – what are _we_ doing?” He gestures between himself and her. “Because I thought we were going somewhere and then all of a sudden you’re telling someone else to ask me to formal.”

Lydia dances around the subject, “So, you don’t want to go to the formal with Malia?”

“Why on earth would I want to do that?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” She says, frustrated with him now. “You spend a lot of time together and she’s like head over heels for you, which I thought you knew. I thought I was doing you a favor.”

Stiles gapes at her, his eyes lighting up like he’s figured her out, “Are you jealous?”

Lydia purses her lips, squirming at the look on his face, “No.”

“Oh my god, you _are._ “

“Stiles, I’m not jealous –“

“I can’t believe you’re jealous of the girl I help with math homework –“

Lydia mostly just wants him to _shut up_ , which is why she closes the small distance between them to kiss him.

She cradles his face in between her hands to hold him in place as she moves her lips against his. He’s frozen in place, like he doesn’t know how to respond.

She pulls back after a moment with shaky breath. It’s _electric_ the way he looks at her, the way his eyes rove over her face before darting down to her lips.

“Lydia –“

She kisses him again, pressing her mouth harder against his and he finally responds. He moves his lips in time with hers as his hands come up to wrap around her neck, his long fingers winding into the hair at the nape of her neck. He groans into her mouth and the vibration of it sends goosebumps all along her body.

She sits up more against him, knocking the bowl of popcorn over in the process. She swings her leg over his so that she’s straddling his lap and swipes her tongue against his lower lip.

He opens, his tongue meeting hers and it’s probably the most desperate kiss she’s ever had. Her arms wrap around his shoulders as his hands move down to rest at the skin of her thighs, where her cotton shorts have ridden up from the position she’s in.

All of her senses are heightened. She’s never felt this enraptured by someone else, just from the feel of his lips against hers and the heavy weight of his hands on her skin. It’s almost like she’s drunk on the taste of him. She wonders if he’s ever kissed anyone else before or if she’s the first. The thought makes her moan into his mouth, the sound obscene enough to make him jerk away from her.

When he pulls away, he’s looking at her like she’s the best thing he’s ever seen. His pupils are blown wide and his hair is disheveled from where her fingers had been running through it. His lips are swollen red and she knows that hers are no better. His hands trail up from her thighs to rest on her waist, his thumbs drawing circles into the skin exposed where her tank top has bunched up.

“Lydia –“

“You should take me to formal.”

His eyes soften, knowing that he was right about before. “Of course I’ll take you to formal. I was working up to it, you know.“

“You want to work up to something else right now?” she says with a deliberate roll of her hips.

He groans, his hands tightening on her waist. His head falls to the back of the couch. “ _God,_ Lydia.”

His exposed neck is right there, so she leans forward and latches her lips to the place below his ear. She rolls her hips again as she trails her lips down, his moans in her ear sending heat straight to her core.

He pulls her back so he can kiss her again, his mouth moving slowly against hers. This kiss, so much more tender and loving than the ones before, makes her toes curl and her heart stutter in her chest. It’s scary, how much he can turn her into a puddle just by _kissing_ her.

He pulls back to catch his breath. She leans her forehead against his, eyes still closed. She feels the puffs of warm breath against her lips. Her hands move to rest on his chest and she can feel his heart drumming against his rib cage. They match.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” Stiles says. She opens her eyes and looks at the amber flecks in his. She knows there’s no pressure to the way he’s saying it, that he just wants her to know how much he wants her.

“Me too.” She confesses and she finds that it’s true, too. Now that she’s kissed him, she’s not really sure what was stopping her before.

“Yeah?”

She nods. He tucks her hair behind her ear, his hand trailing down to the ends. “The night of the party, when you told me I looked beautiful even though I knew I looked like a mess, I could have kissed you right then.”

“You always look beautiful.” He says easily. “I wanted to do this that first night.”

Her heart lurches in her chest. She smiles softly, before leaning back in to kiss him. They can make up for lost time. They have all night.

. . .

“Do you want to dance?”

Lydia looks up from the tablecloth that she’s been staring at for the past couple of minutes. Jackson stands in front of her, looking dapper in his suit. He’s looking at her expectantly, like he thinks she’s been dying for him to come over and ask.

She hasn’t. In fact, she’s been perfectly fine sitting alone. She needed to catch her breath after dancing all night with Stiles. She has to admit she’d been surprised by the ferocity of his dance movements.

“I’m good, thanks.” She tells him as politely as she can.

“Lydia, come on –“

“Where’s Erica? I’m sure she would love to dance.”

“We broke up.”

Lydia didn’t know that. He smirks at her as the news registers on her face. The fact that he’s single doesn’t change anything, despite what he may think. “That’s a shame. You guys deserve each other.”

“How long is it going to take for you to get over what happened?”

“Trust me, I’m over it.” Her eyes move over the crowd until she finds who’s she looking for. Stiles is standing by the punch bowl, talking with Malia and her date, Kira. The jealousy that she might have felt a week ago is nowhere to be found; in fact, she feels light as she watches Stiles gesticulate wildly in his conversation with her.

She points behind Jackson to Stiles, “You should walk away before my date comes back over here. Don’t want to embarrass you more than you already have.”

“Stilinski?” Jackson questions as he whips back around to look at her. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.” She answers. Then, for her own satisfaction, she tells him, “He’s my soulmate.”

Jackson startles at that. His nostrils flare, but that’s the only indication that he’s pissed off. “Whatever. Have fun with that loser.”

“Oh, I will!” Lydia calls after him as he stalks away. Stiles reappears, his eyes trailing after Jackson’s retreating figure.

“Everything okay?” He asks, sitting down in the chair next to her. “What did Jackson want?”

“To annoy me.” She answers, taking a sip of the punch he brought her. Her face screws up in disgust. “They spiked it.”

“Figured as much.” He says and slides her his cup of water. She smiles in thanks as she takes a sip to wash out the bad taste in her mouth.

Stiles takes her hand in his, stroking his thumb against the back of it as he looks around the gymnasium. In the past week, Lydia has learned what a tactile person Stiles is. He is usually the one to initiate any touching – to take her hand or to keep his hand on the small of her back or to wrap his arm around her shoulder whenever she’s close. She’s never been a person who indulged in PDA, but she can’t seem to mind when it comes to him.

She thinks about how much he must have been holding himself back from touching her before. It makes her heart flutter whenever he absentmindedly grabs for her now, probably why she lets him do it so easily.

The fast-paced pop song transitions into a slow ballad. The crowd disperses a little, as people take the opportunity for a break. Lydia stands suddenly and tugs on Stiles hand, “Let’s dance.”

“I thought you wanted to take a break?” he says as he trails behind her to the dance floor.

“I did. And now I want to dance again.” She explains over her shoulder. She turns around to face him when they’re in the middle of the dance floor.

“Whatever you want.” He replies easily. She wraps her arms around his shoulders as his come up to rest on her waist. She steps a little closer in his arms to rest her head against his shoulder as they start to sway to the music.

She’s so content in this moment as they dance around in circles across the linoleum floor. She listens to his heart thud steadily in his chest and sighs. He presses his lips to her hair.

“I know I’ve said it a million times tonight, but you look insanely beautiful.” He tells her, voice low in her ear. She smiles, pressing her lips together. She bought the floor length, lavender gown with Stiles in mind.

“You clean up pretty nicely yourself.” she compliments, running her hands down the sleeves of his dress shirt. He shed the jacket a couple of songs into the dance. She’s still thrilled at the sight of his matching lavender tie.

His hands adjust, brushing over the bare skin of her back. It was worth it to see his jaw drop when he first saw the open back detail of her dress, but he’s too much of a gentleman and has kept his hands respectfully to her waist.

It’s frustrating, to say the least. She wants him to touch her. 

She places her hands on his chest and pushes back to look up at him. His brows furrow as he looks down at her, “What’s wrong?”

Lydia lifts up onto her tiptoes -- because even in heels she’s still a couple inches shorter than him – and puts her lips right by his ear, “Do you want to get out of here?”

She gives him a sultry look when she pulls back and he nods easily, “Yeah. Yeah, we should go.”

She smiles before she takes his hand to lead him off the dance floor. She looks around for Allison and Scott, but she can’t find them. She wouldn’t be surprised if they had taken off hours ago.

Stiles scoops up his jacket from the table they had been sitting at. He readjusts his grip on her hand before he takes the lead to get them out of the gymnasium. They step outside into the brisk chill of the night and Stiles immediately drops his suit jacket onto her shoulders. She wraps herself around his arm as they make their way across the parking lot to the Jeep, which he parked in the back near the exit.

He opens the passenger door for her and helps her inside. She quickly slips the jacket off and places it in the backseat as he rounds around to the driver side. He climbs in and sticks the key into the ignition.

“So, uh, where did you want to go?”

“Nowhere.” Lydia answers teasingly.

She launches across the console between them to kiss him. He gasps against her mouth, which gives her the perfect opportunity to slip her tongue inside. She wraps her arms around his shoulders to steady herself and his hands automatically go to her waist.

He slows their pace, moving his lips against hers deliberately. She’s found that he likes to do this whenever they make out, like he’s savoring the taste of her lips. It’s these kisses that leave her the most undone, that leave her the most shaky when she pulls away. His tongue brushes against hers, sending a rush of heat down her spine.

His hands travel up to caress her bare back, just like she wanted him to. He draws circles into her skin, which makes her preen. Her hands travel down to smooth over his chest, her one hand wrapping itself around his tie to pull him closer.

His lips pull away from hers to travel down her neck. She feels his tongue lave at the spot underneath her ear that drives her crazy, feels him bite the skin with his teeth to leave a mark. She can’t find it in herself to admonish him, can only shift her legs to alleviate the rush of desire that shoots straight to her core.

His hands move to her waist, his thumbs brushing against the side of her breast. She moans at the sensation and he groans against her neck.

“ _God,_ this dress.” He murmurs, trailing wet kisses along her collarbone.

“You like it?” She asks, a little more breathily than she cares to admit.

“You know I do.” He moves back up to kiss her properly. “You look so good.”

“I’m wearing it for you.” She says against his lips.

He pulls back at that, looks at her with a sense of awe as his hands squeeze her hips. “Really?”

“Only for you. I want you to be the one to take it off.” She says and he surges forward to kiss her again, a little messily. She gasps and his tongue swipes at her lower lip. His hands move up to cradle her jaw and she holds onto his wrist, so willing to let him wreck her with the hard pressure of his mouth.

She could keep kissing him forever, so it’s a shame when he pulls back to look at her. He leans his forehead against hers; one of his hands rubs circles into her neck while the other drops to run up the skin of her leg, exposed in the slit of her dress.

“Sometimes I can’t believe it.” He whispers, his voice absolutely ruined.

“What?” she asks, just as quiet.

“That you’re my soulmate.” He says. She melts, the word causing affection to surge through her. She can’t believe it either sometimes, that a boy so gentle and loving was just given to her by the universe. A lot of the time she still feels like she doesn’t deserve him, that he’s too good for her.

She smiles and kisses him chastely. “I am. And you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” He agrees easily. She kisses him again before she pulls back completely to settle into the passenger seat. She readjusts her dress, smoothing down the fabric.

“Take me home.” She tells him and he smiles at that. He turns the key in the ignition and the Jeep comes to life.

He pulls out of his parking spot and starts to drive. She’s the one to grab his hand where it rests on the gearshift, tangling his fingers with hers.

Lydia rests her head against the window and looks up at the night sky. The moon shines down on her as the stars twinkle against the dark canvas. Her eyes look for Orion’s Belt, tracing over the shape as he drives down the road to his house.

Under the night sky, with his hand in hers, she already feels at home.


End file.
